


Bedtime Brew & other Disgustingly Domestic Scenes

by Simara



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanon Typical Ups and Downs, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, as fluffy as this ship gets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22912621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: "Elias closed the album with a sigh. He had meant to throw it in the trash but somehow he had made the fatal mistake to open it instead. It was safe and closed now but the damage was done."Nine happy memories and the moment Elias fails to burry them.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 27
Kudos: 133





	1. Bedtime Brew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes tea and Elias defends a Georgian habit.

Peter poked his head out from the kitchen.

“Tea?”

“Did you make it?”

“…yes?”

“Then no, thank you, I don’t fancy upsetting my stomach right now.” Peter let out a low whistle as he brought the cups into the study, setting one down right in front of Elias.

“You’ll be fine. It’s decaf.” Elias scoffed.

“That’s not the part I was worried about and you know that.” He took the cup without raising his eyes from his paperwork. Then he took a sip. And another.

"This… This is actually drinkable, for once.“ He paused, looking at the cup intently, trying to figure out the flavour. “Is this nutmeg or are you trying to poison me, dear?” Peter gave an absurdly sheepish look.

“You like nutmeg, don’t you?”

“I’m not averse to it, no.” Peter had to muffle a laugh.

"Not averse? You use it for everything. I saw you sprinkle nutmeg on top of your Chinese take out once.” Elias wanted nothing more than hit Peter over the head with something heavy but settled for drawing in a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let Peter provoke him. He was better than this.

“Well, it isn’t my fault that people nowadays seem to have forgotten how to use spices.”

“I’m still not convinced people actually enjoyed the taste of it. I’d bet that it was all for show, dusting your food in something expensive just because you could.” Elias finally directed his eyes directly at Peter, a glimmer of threat in them.

“Are you _trying_ to fight with me, Peter, or is this your idea of foreplay?” Peter hummed in consideration.

“Depends. Is it working?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not sponsored by Yorkshire Tea's Bedtime Brew but I sure wish it was. (Also shout out to the three history nerds who actually got the nutmeg joke).
> 
> Anyway. I'm @simaraknows on tumblr and this might be the one and only time you wont have to yell at me in the comments (regularly-voiced comments are obviously still very welcome though)
> 
> This will update daily.


	2. Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Elias spend Christmas at the Bouchard family estate.

“So, Peter. How long have you... known my son?" The way Mrs. Bouchard was holding her dinner knife was positively distracting. Peter shifted under the collective stare of the Bouchard family.

“Uhm…” He glanced at Elias who offered little more than a raised eye brow in support. Peter tried to focus, tried to summon his most charming smile. It felt incredibly hollow but it had to do. “We met shortly after he took over from James Wright, Mrs. Bouchard. My family is one of the main donors to the Magnus Institute.”

“You don’t seem to be particularly close.”

“Pardon?”

“You and your family. There must be some tensions if you’d rather be with Eli than celebrate Christmas with them.”

“We… we don’t really do Christmas.” Mrs. Bouchard got a look on her face that Peter recognized perfectly well. It was the same look any of _his_ relatives got right before saying something very offensive. He was rather relieved when Elias diverted her attention.

“This has been a lovely dinner, _Mother_. But I’m afraid we’ll have to leave a little early.” She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Do you always have to cause a scene, Eli? Is it too much to ask to have _one_ Christmas without any of", she gestured vaguely towards him. "That." A sigh. "If your father could see you now, you and your–“ Elias stood.

“Merry Christmas, everyone.” He held out his hand to Peter. ”Let’s go, dear.”

Peter had a full body shudder when they went through the door.

“Next time”, he hissed without letting go of Elias’ hand. “You pick an orphan.”


	3. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some tensions in the marital bed but it all works out for the best.

Elias was kissing Peter’s thigh with just enough teeth to be a tease and Peter’s hands were gripping at the sheets.

It took Elias much too long to realise that it was not the good kind of agitation. When he finally caught on to it, he sat up and brushed his fingers against the back of Peter’s left hand.

"Bad day?” Peter made a dismissive noise and refused to look at him. Elias sighted. “Talk to me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I know.” He let his powers reach just far enough to brush against Peter’s consciousness. “Do you still want to do this?” Peter shifted under his stare but did not try to put his guards up. There was tension radiating from him, tension and discomfort and frustration – directed inwards, mainly. Peter forced a smile.

“Sure.”

“That’s a no, then.” The muscles in Peter’s shoulders loosened visibly. Elias tried not to take too much offence at his relieve.

“Would you like to leave?” Peter rolled onto his side and glanced at Elias, hesitation written all over his face. It was a strangely vulnerable sight. Elias felt a weird flutter in his chest.

“Can I stay? Just to sleep”, he added hurriedly. Elias considered it for a moment. Then he smirked.

“On the couch, dear?” Peter felt the strong urge to pull the duvet over his head.

“Don’t make me ask for it.” Elias couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Alright. You may stay where you are.”

“How gracious.”

“Don’t test your luck. Now come here, I’m getting cold.” Peter’s heart was beating much too fast as he got under the blanket. The way Elias snuggled up to him felt strange and dangerous. A treacherous part of his brain found it oddly comforting. He exhaled slowly as Elias settled against his back, one arm slung lazily over Peter’s chest. His fingers started to trail across Peter’s throat, his collarbones. Peter stired. 

“Hush”, Elias said. “Go to sleep.”


	4. Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one were they buy their first wedding rings.

“I like this one best”, Peter said and let his fingers ghost against the silver band. “What do you say?” Elias leaned in closer to inspect the display and worried his lip.

“A little plain, don’t you think?” Peter all but crossed his arms in defence.

“It’s practical. I won’t have to take it off at sea.”

“Fine. To each their own then.” Elias started to reach for a diamond ring but Peter slapped his hand away.

“No”, he said with an earnestness that surprised even himself. “They have to match.” Elias was just about to say something snide as the jeweller cleared his throat.

“Well, maybe we can find a compromise.” He busied himself at one of the more expensive looking displays, then reappeared presenting a set of silver rings that were fitting perfectly on top of each other. One was beset with several small stones; the other had just as many cut-outs, creating an almost wave-like design. Elias didn’t have to look at Peter to _know_ that this might be his only chance to get a diamond ring at all.

“Well”, he said, trying to sound as nonchalantly as possible. “If we absolutely must.”

“Don’t be hasty now,” Peter warned mockingly. ”This is an once-in-a-lifetime decision.”

He was too focused on the rings to notice the flash-second of doubt on Elias’ face.


	5. Platonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They decide to keep things platonic - until they don't.

Shortly after their second divorce, Elias decided that the best thing they could do moving forward was to keep their future interactions strictly platonic. Peter nodded in agreement, mainly because he didn’t trust his voice not to shake should he make an actual reply.

They managed to have financial meetings every other month without exchanging more than a few niceties for almost half a year until one day, Peter entered Elias office only to be immediately grabbed by the front of his shirt and smashed into a bookshelf. Peter briefly wonderered what the fact that he was more than willing to reciprocate despite everything that had happened said about his self respect. Then Elias was on his knees and thinking wasn't really an option anymore. 

An hour later they were naked on the floor, panting and bruised from the hard edges on Elias' desk. Elias was utterly blissed out, too thoroughly fucked to break Peter's heart all over aigain, despite his previous resolution to kick his ex-husband out as soon as they'd finished. Peter began to run his fingers through Elias’ hair, smoothing it gently. It had gotten somewhat long since the last time he’d been allowed to touch it and he was rather enjoying how it felt against his skin. Elias seemed to like it too, going by the way he started to lean into the touch. Peter smiled. 

“Missed me, eh?” Elias groaned softly and closed his eyes. Luckily for Peter, he was too wrapped up in the afterglow to start a fight, though.

“Don’t ruin this.” Peter buried his nose in Elias hair and hummed in agreement. Who knew if they would ever get a chance to feel this nice and groggy again, after all? 


	6. Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a Lukas family funeral and Elias is positively looking for trouble.

“No, thank you, I’ve brought my own.” Elias held up his flask demonstratively and took a long sip without breaking eye contact with the unfortunate Lukas who had dared offer him a glass. Peter grabbed Elias by the arm and leaned in close.

“What are you doing?” It was a hiss-whisper, barely audible. Elias brushed his lips against Peter’s cheek (Peter could smell the alcohol on his breath) before blatantly ignoring the question and murmuring into his ear:

“Is it strange that these funerals always make me horny?” A shudder ran down Peter’s spine. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

“Yes”, he answered through gritted teeth. “Behave.” Elias smirked

“Always. Ah, look, I’ve spotted Nathaniel among the mourning aunts. We should say hello.”

“No, no, that’s the last thing we should do!” He tried to dig his heels in as Elias started to stir them towards the buffet but in the end he had to give if he wanted to avoid falling over his own feet.

Nathaniel barely acknowledged them; he merely nodded and scoffed. All things considered, that was a much better outcome than Peter had hoped for, but Elias, of course, could not let him have nice things.

“So, Nathaniel, don’t you think it’s time to let go of the parvenu-chic?” Elias asked very sweetly. “Your family has been part of decent society for almost a century now, after all. Old Mordechai was still a tradesman through-and-through, but what exactly is your excuse?”

Peter accepted the flask from Elias and took a deep swig. In for a penny…


	7. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a panic attack at the Christmas Party.

Sure, Elias had known that Peter was prone to anxiety but seeing him like this, clutching at his tie in a desperate attempt to loosen it, took him aback none the less.

“You need to breathe.” Peter tried to shoot him a nasty look but it was strongly undermined by the fact that his eyes were red and watery. Elias raised his hands in defence. “I know it’s obvious but that doesn’t make it less effective. Here. Let me help.” He caught Peter’s shaking hand which was still failing to loosen his tie. He pressed it reassuringly and forced it down. Elias’ fingers undid the knot and the first few buttons of Peter’s shirt without much effort. Elias rested his palm flat against Peter’s chest. His other hand reached for Peter’s once more and gave another gentle press. “Focus. C’mon. Deep breaths.” He began to count slowly, pressing Peter’s hand each time to keep him grounded.

It was strangely hypnotic to feel Peter’s chest fall back into a more even rhythm. He almost forgot to take his hand away once Peter’s pulse was back to normal. Elias cleared his throat and busied himself with readjusting Peter’s clothes.

“Here, let me…” Peter didn’t complain or try to hinder him which in itself spoke of how exhausted he must have been. Peter forced himself to stand up a little taller. His voice was almost back to normal when he said:

“We should go back to the party. Wouldn’t want them to suspect that we’ve had too much fun in this lovely storage room, now would we?”

“Oh please”, Elias replied as he accepted the arm Peter offered him. “My employees know that I’ve got more taste than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be a break tomorrow. We'll be back on schedule on saturday, meaning that this'll wrap up on monday. 
> 
> Got a favourite memory so far? Let me know in the comments.


	8. Dress Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one were they go shopping.

“No, Peter, you can’t buy that! Here, try this one on.” He pushed a light blue suit towards Peter and yanked the orange turtleneck from his husband’s hand. Peter followed the offending object with wistful eyes.

“But it’s soft.”

“It’s hideous.” Peter crossed his arms.

“Well, it’s _my_ money we’re spending.” Elias smiled a sickly-sweet smile.

“And it’s my reputation on the line. Now try on the suit.”

Five suits and seven shirts later, Peter stepped out of the cabin and threw his hands up in defeat.

“I give up. I’m done. I’d rather get another divorce than try on one more thing. Nothing here _fits_. Nothing is _comfortable_.” Elias didn’t look impressed. He swatted Peter’s gesticulating hands away and began to readjust the lilac pocket square he’d picked to go with the outfit.

“Clothes aren’t supposed to be comfortable, Peter. That’s a misconception started by the Victorian middleclass. And if you don’t stop complaining I’ll get you stock’d and stay’d for the next fundraiser.” He was so busy inspecting and adjusting Peter’s suit that it took him a while before he noticed the strange look on his husbands face. He drew the tie’s knot tighter than strictly neccesary. “What is it?” Peter’s lips twitched.

“I sometimes forget you’re _that_ old.” Elias raised an eyebrow in confusion. Peter hurried to explain: “I don’t think they make ‘stocks and stays’ anymore, dear.“ Elias snorted.

“Oh, trust me, I’ll find a way to get you fitted for a corset if I have to.” Peter thought about it for a moment. There was mischief in his eyes.

“I might take you up on that offer.”


	9. Stress Relieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias is working late and Peter brings flowers.

Peter stepped out of the lonely and into Elias’ office with a song on his lips and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Honey, I’m h-“ Elias raised his head and blinked up at Peter. His hair was messy and there were deep bags under his bloodshot eyes. Peter’s face fell. He set the flower's down. “When was the last time you’ve slept?” Elias eyes fluttered shut. Peter could still see them move beneath the lids.

“Doesn’t matter. There are bigger problems right now.” Peter sighted. He closed the space between them. His hands came to rest on Elias shoulders. They were hard with tension.

“Archivist on the loose?” Elias gave an affirmative hum. It turned into a soft moan as Peter started to massage his shoulders.

“Don’t you dare stop.” Peter chuckled.

“I can’t leave you for a few weeks without you wasting away, hm?”

“Months”, Elias murmured. There was no malice in his voice. “You’ve been gone for six months, Peter.”

“Oh.” Peter considered it. “Yes, you might be right. I've brought flowers, though. Myrtle and forget-me-nots.” Elias had to hold back a laugh

“You’re impossible.” Peter began to work on a particularly nasty knot and Elias all but melted into his hands. “I need to keep watching.” He didn’t sound very convinced. Peter shook his head.

“You need to come home. You need to sleep.” He placed a kiss on the crown of Elias' head, causing a sigh.

“It’s not that easy. She-”

“She’ll still try to kill you tomorrow, I promise.” Elias turned and glanced up at his husband, fondness in his eyes.

“Alright. But you better be there when I wake up in the morning.” Peter smiled.

“No promises.”


	10. Album

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias tries to drink to forget but it's not really going his way.

Elias closed the album with a sigh. He had meant to throw it in the trash but somehow he had made the fatal mistake to open it instead. It was safe and closed now but the damage was done: Elias was feeling nostalgic. All those pictures, notes, mementos…

The night Peter had taken a picture of him glaring at two broken mugs which had fallen victim to an ill thought through attempt to fuck on the coffee table.

Or the Christmas invitation they’d received from the family of dear departed Elias Bouchard that one year.

Oh, and the sneaky selfie Elias had taken with Peter sleeping in the background cuddled up close like an oversized kitten.

Then there was the note Peter had written him sometime after they’d hooked up despite their second divorce. It was a silly little thing with more spelling mistakes than Elias had the patience to count but he’d never gotten around to throwing it away.

They’d even kept the receipt for their first ever wedding rings, tugged underneath a shaky snapshot of Peter signing the registry.

He’d almost forgotten about that one time he had managed to make Nathaniel Lukas loose his cool. Rediscovering the picture of himself, smiling self-righteously into the polaroid as he pressed ice against his broken nose had almost made him laugh.

His face had hardened a little as he'd brushed his thumbs over the picture of them kissing at a fundraiser. He'd talked Peter down from a panic attack that night but whoever had taken this particular picture had managed to catch a rare moment of tranquillity.

Next came the mirror selfie they’d taken at the boutique that one day, Peter's hand around his waist, drawing him closer to fit both of them into the frame. 

And, of course, the dried forget-me-not, tugged between the pages, a painful reminder of how content he had been that night at his office when Peter had returned from sea.

Elias poured himself a third glass of scotch in the hopes of finding the strength to burn these cursed memories at the bottom of the bottle. Somehow it had the reverse effect: The more he drank the more he felt the childish urge to call Peter and apologize. He ended up smashing his phone and emptying the bottle into the kitchen drain. He had some self respect left, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for for sticking around! I remain, as always, @simaraknows on tumblr and comments are greatly appreaciated.


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